


somehow, i'll be doing alright

by orphan_account



Category: ABBA (Band)
Genre: Break Up, Drabble, F/F, F/M, Ficlet, M/M, Microfic, Multi, OT4, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 02:42:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13988778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In the beginning, Frida wanted everything.





	somehow, i'll be doing alright

**Author's Note:**

> presenting one of the nerdiest fics i have ever written. abba fic. imagine.  
> i'm damn proud of it, too.
> 
> title is a ref to 'if it wasn't for the nights', which is probably my favorite abba song atm

In the beginning, Frida wanted everything. 

The music. The fame and fortune. The friendship (and beyond that). It only took a few years past Eurovision for her to find it all through her band. ABBA quickly proved themselves beyond one-and-done status. Suddenly, all eyes were on them and their endless reservoir of music. Frida reveled in it. And, behind closed doors, she celebrated in the arms of each of her bandmates, wrapping herself up in the equally-endless stream of love. Every song a love note, every performance a vow, every tour stop a honeymoon.

She should have known it wouldn’t last. Swedes have a reputation for being prone to pessimism, but Frida knows that it’s realism, in all actuality. A pragmatic approach to life makes the whole experience go down much smoother. Marriages between two people are difficult enough to navigate, so what on earth made them – made _her_ – think that a four-way union would withstand the time? Bjorn and Agnetha had the first cracks in the picture, and then soon it was a domino effect that had Benny and Frida crumbling, with all the other permutations between both couples following soon after. Having the world watching their every move suddenly felt suffocating as Frida tried to cope with the breakdown of the best things that had ever happened to her. Even the music, which had been the beautiful start of it all, had become a chore.

By ABBA’s final peak – a melancholy album, reflecting the Cold War and all the cold and bittersweet parts of their hearts – Frida had cut her hair, and had resolved to cut her losses. She wanted no part of any of it anymore, feeling like a corpse or ghost in the face of what once was.

It was well beyond time to move on.


End file.
